OF THE U N I VERS ITY OF ILLINOIS 8Z3 W2 IGt 1 825a. I v.£ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2016 https://archive.org/details/tremaineormanofr02ward_0 TREMAIN E. VOL. II. . , .a j . . TREMAINE, OR THE MAN OF REFINEMENT. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: PRINTED FOR HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 1825 . LONDON : PRINTED BY B. CLARKE, WELL STREET. TREMAINE, OR THE MAN OF REFINEMENT. CHAP. I. PERSUASION. “ For when a world of men “ Could not prevail with all their oratory, “ Yet hath a woman’s kindness overruled. SHAKSPEARE. Returned home, Woodington never appeared so lonely in the eyes of Tremaine. He passed an uneasy evening, and an uneasy morning the next day : could settle to nothing, and went to his library as he generally did, to find comfort, and as he often did, not knowing where to look for it. His chair, which was what the upholsterers call an Indulgent (a great deal too indulgent for study), an open Cicero, an open Horace, and an VOL. II. B 2 TREMAINE. Open Shaftsbury, seemed to invite him to proceed with them, where he left off; — but he did not know where he left off, and they never had so few charms. “ No,” said he, 66 I’ll none of ye — I’ll to the Forest of Ardennes taking up a volume of Shakspeare ; cc I’ll to the garden, to the woods — to the seat that looks on the most beautiful spot in England !” He meant a bench which he had lately fixed at the end of the terrace, commanding the best view of Evelyn Hall. As he paced back through the rooms, Mary, and all that Mary, and even that old Vellum had said in the preceding morning, revived in his memory. u I agree,” said he, (for why should I deny it) that Belmont was a melancholy place; and that I was dying there of hyp ! — I agree too, how fine it would be, if such a lady were at Woodington; for — Woodington wants a mis- tress. Alas ! I agree too,’’ looking at himself in a pier glass, as he passed it, “ if I was not so old and so solemn ! — As to the age,” he went on, still looking at himself, u it is not so very great ! I am by no means so old as her father ! and as to the solemnity — to be sure she has many notions that must change — and they will change,” said he, flinging out of doors, and hastening to the end of the terrace. TREMAINE. 3 “ I will here,” said lie, sitting down, u enjoy all those charms of a reverie, which that witch de- scribed,” — and he closed his eyes, only to open them now and then upon the chimnies of Evelyn. But alas ! a reverie, is not to be purchased, nor controlled, nor commanded; — neither rank, nor riches, nor shining before men, nor wisdom in one’s generation, nor in one’s own eyes, nor wisdom of any sort, can bind this wayward sprite, who comes and goes at his pleasure, and flits be- fore the charmed sense of a poor student, build- ing his chateau en Espagne, fifty to one more readily than he will oblige the King of Spain him- self. In this he is like his first cousin, Sleep, who often rather lies in smoky cribs, “ Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, “ Under the canopies of costly state, tc And lulled with sounds of sweetest melody.” It is quite certain that Mr. Tremaine, great as he was, and using all u means and appliances to boot,” could not catch the reverie he sighed for, so as to hold it for a moment. He had risen for the fourth time, from the bench he was sitting on, (which he said was a very uneasy bench) before he entirely gave the matter up. “ I know not why,” said he — ct but the plank in the scarlet-bean arbour was pleasanter than this.” He looked at it again, examined its con b 2 4 TREMAINE. struction, quarrelled with his carpenter, said he would have a new one, and was actually return- ing to the house to give orders, when, to his utter astonishment, (though perhaps nothing in the world could be less astonishing) he saw the Doctor and his daughter standing before him. To say he reddened, or looked foolish, or hesi- tated when he paid his compliments, would be to shock the good breeding of which he was master ; — but as certain it was, that he did not pay those compliments with his usual ease. u I fear we break in upon your privacy,” said Evelyn. u At least most agreeably,” replied he. “We presumed,” observed Miss Evelyn, “ upon the permission of Monsieur Dupuis, who, when he went one way to seek you, gave us leave to go another. We asked which way you went, to which we had the satisfactory answer, “ he no know himself! — ” “ From all which we suspected,” said Evelyn, looking at his book, “ that you were, as we find you, enacting the part of Master Touchstone, in the Forest of Ardennes.” “ I am much obliged to you for making me a clown, when at least I fancied myself a duke,” said Tremaine. “ The resemblance, pardon me, is perhaps nearer than you are aware of ; — nay, don’t be angry, for it was Georgy there first pointed it out.” TREMAINE. 5 Me ! Oh papa! — sure you — indeed Mr. Tremaine — ” “ I have no doubt the resemblance is very just,” said Tremaine, with rather more politeness in his manner than Georgina was disposed to like. u S^avoir,” said Evelyn ; and he began to read. “ And how like you this shepherd’s life, 66 Master Touchstone? Truly shepherd, in re- c: spect to itself it is a good life ; but in respect ec that it is a shepherd’s life, it is naught. In “ respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but “ in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. ct Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth u me well ; but in respect it is not in court, it is “ tedious. Hast any philosophy in the shep- “ He for God only, she for God in him.” TREMAINE. 121 u Delightful !” cried Georgina, and a soft sigh, (certainly not one of pain) stole from her bosom, while she alternately looked at Tremaine and the river which was now silvered all over by the moon. “ I give up Miss Lyttleton !” said Georgina. 66 1 knew you would,” said Tremaine, “ for there is not the least affinity between you — nor is your heart more opposite to Mrs. Neville’s, than your manners to Miss Lyttleton’s.” * “ Shall we say that from this time, that good will with which, somehow or another, with all his para- doxes, all his inconsistency, Tremaine had contrived to inspire Georgina, began to take a more soft and serious turn in her breast ? — that she felt, although there was much to correct, yet that there was also something much more congenial with herself than at least she had ever yet discovered in any other man? The truth of history perhaps requires that we should own this, notwithstanding the certainty that awaits us of the indignation of that whole tribe of fair ones, who just emerging into light and life, think, for the most part, they might as well be again immerged in darkness, (or, what is the same thing, return once more to the horrors of school,) as be consigned at twenty to the love of a man of eight and thirty. It must be recollected, however, we say not that VOL. II. g 122 TREMAINE. either the gentleman or the lady was what is called in love, according to the creed of these fair ones. For neither was Georgina ready to swear eternal attach* ment for him to her own heart, without knowing any thing about his ; or that she never would marry any other man, whether he offered or not; — (all which is legitimately necessary to constitute the full and genuine passion, as acknowledged by all young ladies, from sixteen to six and twenty) nor was Mr. Tremaine ready to sacrifice the ample comforts, the splendour and consequence of Woodington and Belmont, to live in a cottage, provided Georgina was his companion ; nor was either party ready, the one to run away, the other to be run away with, did the good Evelyn refuse his consent, — all which I apprehend to be absolutely essential to be established, before we can pretend to lay this as a love tale before any of our readers, particularly the younger, and the gentler sex. Do not therefore let .the mistake be incurred, that because there was a great deal of good will, of mu- tual deference, and mutual complacency, between these parties ; because they loved each others com- pany ; because Tremaine remembered no one of the spoilt children of the world to be compared to the rosy sweetness, the natural sense, and the natural grace of Georgina ; and because Georgina always saw some- thing in Tremaine, which by seeming ready to sacri- fice his very prejudices to his wish to please her, won TREMAINE. 123 a wish on her part to please him ; do not I say incur the mistake that the feelings of the parties amounted to love. Pray what then did they amount to ? To something a great deal better. And yet, with all his years, Tremaine could still “ make ballads on his mistress’s eyebrow !” — could still think Evelyn Hall the prettiest view from Woodington ; nay, I verily believe, could we have ascertained it, that if a glimmer of her night-candle could have been discovered through Georgina’s window -shutter, he would never have been able to retire to rest without opening his own to contem- plate it ; which, let me tell you, is a very critical symptom. But this was forbidden by two reasons — first, that no light, (at least none from a crevice,) could be dis- cerned so far ; and next, that Georgina’s w indow did not point that way. If love then be a passion solely of the mind, and not of the senses, as Plato and some modern Jurists would say (not one word of which however I be- lieve) ; or if it be of a mixt nature, compounded of mind and sense, (which may be nearer the truth,) Mr. Tremaine had as good a right to love, and per- haps to be loved, as a much younger man. And even if this busy, meddling, feeling, ardent, whim- sical, and capricious principle, which sets us all, high and low, in commotion, and so often throws us G 2 124 TREMAINE. off our centres — even, 1 say, if it is confined exclu- sively to the senses, as Aristippus, and numberless other practical philosophers hold, (not one word of which either do I believe,) why it is at least a matter of taste ; and all that we can say is, that if Geor- gina at twenty chose to prefer a man of eight and thirty, because, whenever he smiled, his smile was only the more engaging from its contrast with a natural but manly pensiveness ; because he had good teeth, an aquiline nose, an expressive eye, and a modish, gentlemanly air ; why she alone was con- cerned, and we have nothing to do with it. — But to return. ■ A pause of some minutes ensued after Tremaine’s eulogium on gentleness, and while each of the trio seemed occupied with the lovely scene around them, or listening to the not unsolemn rythm of the regular trot of the horses, which broke but did not seem to disturb the silence of the night, each was engaged with his own thoughts. Tremaine felt that he had enforced a favourite principle the better for having the best practical example of it so close at his side : while that example, who, if ever woman was exempt from vanity, was spotless in that respect, could yet not help reverting every minute to the turn he had given his theory in applying it by a delicate inference to herself. Shall we or not confess too, (unaccount- able as it may appear,) that her memory every now and then, and almost unconsciously, found itself TREMAINE. 125 dwelling on those emphatic words and wishes of her protegee Mary, in which that she should be mistress of Woodington, and consequently the in- separable companion of its master, was plainly in- cluded. Whether this arose from any of those quick glancing transitions of thought, which depend upon such secret associations as are not to be traced, and seem therefore mere arbitrary ebullitions of fancy, having nothing to do with the heart ; or whether they proceeded by the direct and perceptible road from the heart itself into the brain, philosophical as we are, we own ourselves unable to tell ; and cer- tainly Georgina herself could not ascertain the true state of the case. All we know is, that during several minutes, while her eyes seemed absorbed by the landscape through which she was passing, her imagination was closed in a reverie, not less novel than pleasing, in which Tremaine bore by far the principal share. In this reverie, the carriage still rolled on — its con- ductors, seemingly (and strangely in Georgina’s mind,) unconscious of the interesting scene that ab- sorbed her, till it came to Woodington, where both drivers and horses would not unwillingly have stopt, thinking the Doctor’s post-chaise would be in wait- ing. — It however had had no orders to return, and Tremaine commanding his postillions on to Evelyn Hall, they were a little surprised, not only that their G 3 m TREMAINE. so natural expectation was disappointed, but that their master, who could so conveniently and comfortably have slipt into his own bed, (it being now past mid- night,) should yet think of going on himself, merely to return alone. These postillions were certainly not in love ! CHAP. XIII. MR. TREMAINE IMPROVES. “ Lofty and sour to them that loved him not ; “ But to those men that sought him, sweet as Summer.” SHAKSPEARE. We shall not enquire whether Mr. Tremaine had any, or what dreams^ when he was quietly deposited at home, after rather a softer farewell of his friends than usual, in which he not only did not disapprove, but absolutely sought the soft pressure of Georgina’s hand. So easy is it for prejudice, when founded more in spleen than nature, to be overcome. It will be recollected, indeed, that in a short but very im- TREMAINE. 127 portant chapter of this work, to fall in love, was enumerated (together with rolling in a horse-pond,) as one of the cures for the spleen : and certain it is, that even the incipient symptoms of this delightful remedy (1 do not mean the horse-pond,) had begun already to operate upon Tremaine’s disease. What can be so interesting, said a fox-hunter once to a politician, as a hard-run chace ? What ! replied the politician ? — why, a hard-run division in the House of Commons ! Tremaine had tried both, and found that, like other medicines, they lost their effect by repetition. He now seemed to court his r\ew one with every hope of success. She is certainly, said he at eight o’clock one morn- ing, as he looked towards Evelyn Hall from his terrace seat, more in the perfection of her nature than any other female being I ever beheld ; and her father is the worthiest, perhaps the most sensible of men. Now a great revolution must have obviously taken place in the mind of the Fastidieux, before all this could have happened. For in the first place, he was not only up, but dressed, and in the air at eight o’clock. Perhaps the air was refreshing ? — So it always had been! — The morning fine? — So it often had been ! — Perhaps he was without sleep ? — So he generally had been ! — Perhaps he had been convinced by Evelyn’s arguments ? — That he only sometimes had been ! — What then had produced all g 4 128 TREMAINE. this ? — Simply an observation that had been made from the rosy lips of Georgina, that there was some- thing so benignant in the morning air, that she not only felt better in health and spirits, but more grate- ful in heart for it to him who sent it, and conse- quently more pleased and happy, all the day long.” 66 Would not a cold bath have the same effect ?” — asked Tremaine. cc Possibly upon the spirits,” answered the lady, o love. Thus did a virtuous mind bring itself round ; and thus a heart that placed its happiness in loving and being loved, righted itself, after a tumult that had threatened its tranquillity, by reposing upon what it was at least certain was good, although it might be the only good in the affair. In this train of mind, after commending herself fervently to Heaven, this excellent young creature sank into slumber, which was sweet and refreshing ; and Evelyn had the happiness of seeing her next morning, placid and cheerful, if not with her usual gaiety, at the breakfast table. The good Doctor, though much the greater rea- soner of the two, and the better philosopher, had himself not been nearly so composed. As a divine, a good shepherd, and a friend, he feared for Tre- maine. If either lady were a mistress, it was his duty to interpose : duty for his own. and his daugh- ter’s sake, as well as Tremaine’s. If Melainee could be an object of seduction ! — too horrible for thought! Yet the world, particularly the fine men in it, were so corrupt ! — In St. James’s Street it would be thought nothing of ; and the French school almost enjoined it ! — This however was soon dis- missed. — That she might be designed for a wife was far more probable. There was an eccentricity, if not a waywardness, in almost all Tremaine’s actions of life, that made Mrs. Neville’s report by no means 182 TREMAINE. incredible. I must send him the substance of her letter, said Evelyn. Full of the design, he closed his study door, after ordering a servant to get ready to go to Woodington, and wrote as follows to Tremaine : — “ You, who know all the rights and duties of friendship, will I am sure not quarrel with me for sending you the inclosed. Left to itself, I should think it the tattle of a silly, if not the malice of a wicked woman ; but coloured as in some measure it is by time, person, and place, in all that belongs to the house in Somerville Wood, both the interest I take in my school-fellow, friend, and neighbour, and my duty to her who is the prop and solace of my life, forbid me to be silent. When I tell you that my daughter has been eager to conciliate the friendship of the ladies your tenants, ever since she saw them, and that she almost rests a part of her happiness on being permitted to cultivate the interesting Melainee, your own rectitude will forgive my asking as far as I may, some account of these ladies. That my friend is scandalized by Mrs. Neville, and the reports of the neighbourhood, I have no doubt, and he perhaps might thank me for enabling him to put down scan- dal at once, by a frank explanation. My dear Tre- maine will however distinctly understand, that ex- planation at the expence of either feeling or confi- dence is not what I seek. My simple question is, as a father, to know, whether Miss Evelyn may with- out impropriety give indulgence to the prepossessions TREMAINE. 183 and wishes with which her new neighbours have inspired her.” This, and a copy of Mrs. Neville’s communication, with the omission of that part which related to Georgina herself, were made into a packet by the Doctor, and dispatched to Tremaine. He was hurt and perplexed at the receipt of it, which he strove at first, though in vain, to attribute to an improper curiosity. But this, not only his natural candour, and respect for Evelyn forbade, but other sentiments towards Evelyn’s daughter for ever banished from his mind. The delicate, the well judging Georgina could never act from an impure motive; and it was evident from her father’s mode of putting it, that she in fact was interested to know the characters of persons whose acquaintance she had solicited, while all the fault and all the mischief rested with Mrs. Neville. How often he gave that lady to the devil, it is useless to enquire ; how often he paced his chamber, and went in and out of doors, the better to consult his own thoughts, it is difficult to remember. It is sufficient to say, that having more than three several times begun a letter to the Doctor, for which he detained his messenger, he at last sent the man away with a verbal compliment, that he would return an answer by a messenger of his own. The whole of the morning was past in writing, and indeed it was evening before a servant from W oodington delivered to Evelyn a packet, which we shall now set before our readers. 184 TREMAINE. CHAP. XIX. A PLAIN TALE. “ Speak it here ; “ There’s nothing I have done yet, o’ my conscience “ Deserves a corner.” “ Noble lady, “lam sorry my integrity should breed “ So deep suspicion.” SHAKSPEARE. To Dr. Evelyn. u Those who know you can never suspect you of an improper motive: those who know your daugh- ter, must be anxious to clear away every thing that may hang a cloud upon the least wish she can form. Her desire to cultivate Melainee de Montauban, to seek her as a companion, to love her as a friend, is not only natural, but does honour to her taste. I am mistaken, were it right that their acquaintance should proceed, if happiness to both would not be the result ; but I doubt if at present their wishes can be gratified : and I feel constrained to think that Mrs. Rochford’s decision is no more than proper. Accuse me not of mystery, any more than misconduct. At the same time I feel agonized that appearances should give TREMAINE. 185 such support to the most wicked of surmises. I know not who is most traduced, Mrs. Rochford, Melainee, or myself. Little am I able to bear it on my own account; still less on theirs. Their purity I have sworn to defend. — Is my own honour less dear to me ? “ Evelyn, you know not my perplexity. I feel wounded more tenderly than perhaps you suspect; yet I dare not defend myself. With you, I might rest something upon confidence; but have I any right to that confidence from another? — that other, prejudiced as she must be by the surmises of an interested, a daring, and manoeuvring woman? — Can I be indifferent to my fame in a quarter which has so much of my respect? — If I could bear the condemnation of the world, could I also bear that Miss Evelyn should think with that world ? That world is saucy ; it takes liberties with innocent women ! Shall he, who can proclaim their inno- cence and his owm, submit in silence? “No! mere caution, which, perhaps, after all is unnecessary, shall not carry me so far. I depart then from my first resolution, and you shall hear a plain tale, which for ever must put to silence even appearances and surmises, much more positive slander. The friend whose injunctions impose upon me the constraint I feel, would be the first, were he to know our dilemma, to release us from a bur- then, which he never foresaw would fall upon us. “ Have you ever heard me mention the name of Colonel Osmond? — the preserver of my life, and 186 TREMAINE. when I was in want of it, the benefactor of my fortune. Chivalry has scarcely painted a braver, a more generous, or a more delicate spirit. The latter lie carries to an excess, which may one day bear hard on the happiness he deserves. Three great interests divide his heart ; his country, his mistress, and his friend. His purse was mine, when I had none of my own ; his sword was mine, when I had lost my own : he pushed my promotion ; he defended my life. In the field of Vimeira, where my horse was killed under me, and while entangled by the fall, a lance was already at my heart ; this Osmond, at the expence of his own blood, saved mine. ’Twas the beginning of our friendship. 66 When I left the army, we corresponded by let- ters. He was perpetually in adventures. Upon one of them now depends his happiness or misery for ever. u Y ou know how the events of war, which he seemed born to control, led the most gallant of mankind be- yond the bounds of the Pyrenees. His advance, how- ever, was tracked in slaughter, and on the plains of Vittoria Osmond was again doomed to bleed. He was, indeed, left for dead on that sanguinary field, and was only saved by an apparent enemy. He w T as con- ducted to the Chateau of the Comte de Montauban, a French nobleman established in Spain, where he was nursed, cherished, and recovered. That nursing, as it affected his peace, so it may for ever colour his fate ; for Melainee de Montauban was his principal attendant. Her mother, an English lady of a noble TREMAINE. 187 house, had long been dead, and she was allowed by her father to gratify her chief pleasure, in watching over one whom she almost considered as a country- man. She was then under fifteen. Whether her young heart was touched with more than benevo- lence towards a wounded, and at one time a dying soldier, I know not, — but his own was penetrated, first with gratitud?, then with love. 44 The Comte de Montauban was Bourbon in his mind, and not the less so from his English connec- tion, and his respect for England : Colonel Osmond improved and wrought upon these dispositions. The Comte opened a correspondence with the King of France, and the cause promising success in the South, too little caution was used in veiling his design. He was seized and shot by the savage Soult ; his estates confiscated, his whole family ruined. 44 Overwhelmed with this sudden reverse, Osmond beheld the w 7 reck as if occasioned by himself ; and he resolved to devote the life they had saved to the family whose kindness to him had been so fatal to themselves. The heir, a child of four or five years old, and the lovely, the touching, the orphan Me- lainee, he conveyed to England. 44 On the boy he settled a competent stipend : for the attracting Melainee he had larger views. The boy has often seen me, and calls, perhaps thinks me, his father; but his sister I have scarcely permitted myself to know T . In all that Colonel Osmond did, he consulted me ; and confided to me, as the best 18B TREMAItfE. compensation he could make for the loss of her parent, the design of bestowing upon her his whole fortune, if at the same time he could have the happi- ness to persuade her to receive himself as her husband and protector for life. u To this he was aware of all the difficulties that might be opposed, but he reduced them all to this single one, the uncertainty how far he might be able to inspire her with corresponding affection. She might be grateful indeed, but gratitude was a word he would not hear of. u She must love, said he, as if T were really and entirely her countryman ; only her equal in fortune ; suitable in powers of attraction, in the qualities she expects, and even in age. Without this, (little as I may pretend to it) I cannot be her husband, though 1 will always be her friend. At the same time to open this design to her at her tender age would only be to take advantage of her inex- perience, and her grateful feelings, with which her little heart absolutely runs over ; for softened as it is by misfortune, and the loss of all whom she has been accustomed to love, she has no one to fix it upon but me. Oh ! that that may last !” u Reasoning in this manner, Osmond did not dis- guise to himself the difficulties he had also to con- tend with, from his personal absence on service at a time the most critical for his object. He was be- sides totally unprovided with a proper asylum for her, from having neither mother nor sister ; and powerfully felt the necessity there was, that her TREMAINE. 189 education, as yet but half finished, should still be pursued. “ Consulted, confided in, by this high-minded man, my admired friend, my gallant preserver, could I be wanting to his views? — No! 1 entered into them. I was not unaware of the boldness of the expecta- tion, that a girl of fifteen might be inspired with love for a man of thirty, but alas ! my own age, and still romantic heart, made me hope at least that such a difference might be overcome. ie I desired him to consign both children to me. I swore to be the guardian of the friendless Me- lainee, to watch over her safety, her improvement and her fame, with the vigilance of a father ; and meantime I had the good fortune to associate Mrs. Rochford in my views. This lady, whom slander has never yet touched, I had remembered as the widow of an officer of rank, known both to me and to Osmond. The superiority of her talents, her sense, and her worth, added to the slender portion with which her husband had left her, pointed her out as designed almost by Providence for our ob- ject. a 1 asked and obtained leave to confide to her the hopes, the romantic hopes of my friend. She rea- dily, and kindly undertook to second them, and what she undertook she has faithfully performed. After the first interviews with Melainee, on yielding her to Mrs. Rochford, I made a point never to see her again. For mindful of the tender, the sacred duty 190 TREMAINE. I had undertaken, I suggested to the latter lady the propriety of keeping her pupil in the most absolute retirement, and above all of secluding her until my friend’s return, from the society of men. Single, un- engaged, and romantic myself, could I do this with such views, and permit my own visits ? “It is now near two years since this plan has been prosecuted : during the whole of that time, Colonel Osmond has cultivated the mind, and I believe the affection, of his young charge, by letters. He is expected every instant. No man has hitherto in^ terfered with him ; and we hope to obtain the only end we have proposed, by delivering her up to him, at least free from all prepossession. “ Such is the outline of a story, on which malice, or wicked indifference to truth or falsehood, has built so much. Whether we may not have been too strict in declining for Melainee the society of her own sex, as well as ours, may be made a question ; but Mrs. Rochford’s fears that the one would cer- tainly bring the other along with it, and her anxiety to fulfil her engagement to Colonel Osmond, who has been her very great benefactor, have made her scrupulously exact in adhering to her plan, and caused an apparent coldness to the overtures of the most amiable young creature that ever God made. “To that excellent creature, and to her alone, I permit you to extend the confidence of this letter, and if it has satisfied you, I suppose I may have the pleasure of soon seeing you again.” TREMAINE. 191 CHAP. XX. SATISFACTION. u He is complete in feature and in mind, ’ (a) “ I allow all this,” said Tremaine, “ and have often felt both the sentiment and the beauty of these lines : nay such is the power of sympathy, that I have generally, on entering such a venerable pile, caught a portion of the flame of those (particularly in Catholic countries), whom I have seen sincerely at their devotions. But alas! ” and he stopt. Oh ! what can be coming ! thought Georgina. “ Proceed,” said Evelyn. “ 1 have checked myself,” continued Tremaine, u with the thought, that hands like my own, and mortals like myself, had framed and fashioned these witcheries, and therefore that all was false.” u False !” cried Evelyn; “ what then is true?” Georgina sighed, but the sigh was lost in what fol- lowed. “ I will tell you,” said Tremaine; — “though I may reject, or rather not necessarily fix upon a church, as the fittest place for devotion, I reject not devotion itself.” cc Good !” observed Evelyn. “ In the wild scenes of nature,” continued Tre- maine, “ such as the Chartreuse, and even in a retired garden, or the depth of a forest, where I have some- (aj Congreve. TREMAINE. 219 times wandered in lonely musing, I have (in my younger days,) vented my soul in prayer and thanks- giving.” Georgina’s eyes absolutely glistened when she heard this, and Evelyn taking his hand, exclaimed with pious affection, u You are not far from the kingdom of God ; why then do you refuse coming to his house ?” “Why indeed!” said Georgina: “[ am fully persuaded this is only one of Mr. Tremaine’s odd theories; for if he feels so substantially right ” She paused, and a sort of sigh escaped from Tre- maine ; for he recollected that many years indeed had elapsed since the happy times he was describing, when his youthful bosom ran over with religion, as a sentiment, without being clogged with any of those miserable embarrassments which the pride of reason had since interposed. ct I fear,” said he, “ you give me more credit than I deserve (if it be a credit to be grateful ;) but if you ask me why I think of religious forms and ceremonies as I do, it is simply because the fullness of devotion, where sincere, must be always such as to burst beyond all restraint, and reduce forms to mere acting and mummery. I see a set of good folks in their best clothes, all sauntering on a given day to a given place, with an assumed air of seriousness, though the instant before they may have been occupied in mer- riment or business. Is there any reason for this uni- versal consentaneous movement ? Yes ! a summons from a particular bell, placed in a steeple ! Well ! l 2 220 TREMAINE. the congregation arrive at the door : on one side the threshold all is still ordinary conversation ; on the other, the holy fit comes on in a moment. Is it, can it, I say, be true, that this sudden change is real ? and if not, what is it ?” u My good neighbour,” replied Evelyn, “ we are taking up this matter too partially, and your too eager feelings blind you. If those to whom you allude have left subjects of merriment or business, immediately before they go to their prayers, so much the worse for them. But this was not the intention of the sabbath ; and it would have been but good for their spiritual interest as well as comfort, if they had stolen a little time from their worldly concerns, in order the better to produce that frame of mind so necessary for the serious office.” i( Produce that frame of mind !” exclaimed Tre- maine. “ Aye, Sir ! ’twas my word. For do we not know enough of the nature of emotion, or rather of asso- ciation, to feel that almost any thing can be excited by laying the proper train ?” “If devotion be so excited,” replied Tremaine, “ it becomes artificial, and therefore hypocritical.” “ I deny both the one and the other,” said the Doctor. “ Consider this matter,” continued he. “ You say yourself, that in the recess of a forest, lonely and musing, you have fallen down and wor- shipped. Explain to me, when you entered your retreat, were you in this frame of mind ? — did you TREMAINE. 221 leave your house under any peculiarly devout im- pression ?” 44 Perhaps not. I probably only set out on a common walk, but was filled by degrees with the contemplation of nature.” 44 Your devotion then possibly came on, in con- sequence of an almost imperceptible pursuit of ideas, each following, and each enlarging the other?” (( Very possibly.” 44 Tell me then, do you think your piety was kin- dled by any immediate call from above; any super- natural visitation ; or only the consequence of a serious frame of mind, generated in a natural man- ner ?” 44 Certainly the latter,” said Tremaine. 44 Answer again before we finish,” pursued Eve- lyn. 44 Were you not soothed and happier for your devotion ? and could a wish at any time command the same moments, would you not indulge that wish ?” 44 1 would give the world sometimes to renew them.” 44 The devotion then, that springs from a wish to be devout, is not mechanical?” 44 I should suppose not.” 44 ’Tis quite enough,” said the Socratic Doctor ; 44 for the poor people you have sneered at, might be, if they pleased, precisely in your situation in the forest.” 44 That I defy you to make out,” observed Tre- maine. l3 222 TREMAINE. u And yet,” rejoined Evelyn, 66 nothing is more simple ; for I hold piety to be a natural attribute of man, and seated in his heart; although, together with every thing else belonging to that poor heart, it may be smothered, or bruised, or worn out, or covered with callosities, according to the character, fortune, or way of life, of the wayward possessor.” 66 Your inference?” said Tremaine. “ Why, that piety being in the heart, like a seed in the ground, it may always swell, and sprout, and fructify, according to the willingness, and pains bestowed on its cultivation.” “ Still I don’t see the conclusion,” pursued Tre- maine. u Merely that if common attention be paid to it, not in fits and starts, but at regular and stated times, — as you would weed and water your seed, without trusting it to chance, — it will interweave itself into your habit, will always be ready, and will even court your call.” 66 And then ?” cs Why then it will always accompany you to church, if you only please to let it do so,” said the Doctor. Tremaine, though shaken, looked still unconvinced. u You will oblige me,” said he, 66 by explaining the potent incantation, by which you would make this call : and at any rate, prove to me that it is not artificial.” (( The process is however very inartificial, and in TREMAINE. 223 every one’s power,” returned Evelyn. cc It is only a little to help, I had almost said not to disturb, the natural course of things.” ts As how ?” asked Tremaine. u Not to go to the Opera on a Saturday night,” answered the Doctor. ee It is amazing,” continued he, perceiving that Tremaine paused upon his words, " to hear men, (sincere, and weli-meaning men too,) complain of their want of zeal, of their indifference, and worldly mindedness : and yet to observe the pains they take to shut up every avenue by which devotion, if only left to itself, would pass into the heart. We prepare for divine service, as you say, by indulging in merri- ment, or business, or politics, to the very moment when the soul is to be poured forth in prayer. Those who have been at a great public entertainment the preceding night, canvass the actors, male and female, to the very church-door ; and I recollect a gay lady, who yet was constant with her family at morning church, open her pew to an acquaintance? asking whether he would not come into her box ! The merchant in the country goes to the post-office on the sabbath morning, discusses the price of stocks, and with his letters full in his head, perhaps in his very hand, walks to his church, yet wonders he is not devout. The politician in Town does the same by all the Sunday papers. Yet if we do the contrary of all this, by only passing a little preparatory time in meditation, in looking over the sacred book, or the L 4; TREMAINE. 224 collect of the day, or in private prayer, though nothing may be more sincere than the consequent devotion it kindles, it is called artificial. Now where is the difference in this respect, between a zeal when in the church, which is the natural and sincere off- spring of this concatenation, and yours in the forest* which was the production of mere preparatory ideas ?” 44 The difference,” said Tremaine, 44 is, that the one comes spontaneously, the other is factitious.” 44 I care not how it comes,” answered Evelyn, 44 provided it is real when it does come : and you allow yourself, if it could come at a wish, it would not be mechanical. Now when I open my bible, or any devout book, or merely a serious moral essay, all which I have the will to do if I please, I wish for the consequences, and your associations in the wood immediately commence. The proper frame of mind, if it did not exist before, is thus generated by degrees ; it is no more artificial than any other frame of mind that flows from natural meditation ; and hence it is in my power to wish, and be gratified in my wish. Upon this very subject, you will recollect what the wisest of all mortals, at least of all modern mortals, (for so I hold Lord Bacon to be) has observed in his beautiful prayer : — 44 I have sought thee in courts, fields, and gardens, but I have found thee in thy temples.” This has been well supposed to mean devotional exercise, with a view to cultivate and im- prove our piety, as we would cultivate and improve any thing else.” TREMAINE. 225 u How can piety, which you suppose innate ,” said Tremaine, “ require this cultivation ? How therefore be compared to any thing else ?” u Why not as well your taste, or any other quality seated in the soul, that is not a mere art or science ? Hence therefore my unceasing wonder, that in an age in which there is at least much talk about religion, in which there is much real attention to the education of the poor, and in which good books multiply in every library, there should be a total neglect of the good old custom of our ancestors, who at night and morning joined in family prayer.” “ I suppose,” said Tremaine, “ it is because you cannot prove the peculiar sacredness of any one particular hour, in which the holy temper is to be generated ; why the morning or the evening should be expected to call for prayers which the noon is to be without. A really grateful and liberal heart cannot be so fettered, and the Almighty might almost seem mocked, with such mere and palpable form.” “ And yet nature, in prompting our duty at morn and eve, speaks to us more plainly than you seem to be aware of,” said Evelyn. u I know what you would say,” replied Tremaine, u and you will tell me of Providence. This on the approach of night I can almost conceive, or at least can understand why it is believed. The evening comes on, we stand in need of sleep, which closing up our senses, all vigilance is suppressed, and we think we require peculiar protection. Who then l 5 226 TREMAINE. shall keep watch for us, is a question which comes sensibly home to our thoughts at our lying down. Then comes cowardice, heightened by fancy, and we are glad to rely on a being who will take the post of our senses, and do that for us which we can- not do for ourselves. This is at least a comfortable supposition, and I am not surprised at nightly prayer ; but what the same prayer has to do with our uprising, I own it baffles me to make out.” u As if he who rules the night does not also rule the day,” said Evelyn : u or as if we could take care of ourselves either by night or by day without him who watches every where, is every where, sees all things, and governs all things.” u But exclusive of this, is there nothing, after the interesting description you have given of our wants and our fears, for which we ought to thank him who has been our protector against both ? Is there nothing new in which we are about to embark, and which claims equal protection, though perhaps of another kind? In sleep we cannot (at least not easily) sin ; but commencing a new r day, we proceed afresh into the field of the passions, and the province of action. Hence not merely physical, but moral dan- gers are to be encountered ; and if in the prayers set apart for the morning, we only read the words tc vouchsafe to keep us this day without sin,” or u defend us in the same by thy mighty power,” we should find abundant reason for our morning devo- tions. In a word, if you admit of prayer or thanks- TREMAINE. 227 giving at all, I know nothing either more rational or more natural, than our ritual upon this point.” cc Have I convinced you ?” continued Evelyn, observing Tremaine pondering these words, u or is there still a doubt to be cleared ?” ce I own,” answered the speculatist, u you have said much for your system as to morning and evening prayer ; but little to persuade me that a church is better than a field ; that one hour is more sacred than another on a Sunday, or Sunday itself than any other day of the week ; still less that all mankind can catch the same glow of devotion at the same moment. Excuse me if I have sometimes thought that this has been the mere effect of a priestcraft, which formerly (I may say it without affronting you) rode hard upon our ignorance, and which perhaps is not yet quite dead. This among other things disin- clined me to the church, for which you know I was once designed.” u I hope the other things were more powerful than this,” said Evelyn ; u for if it was only from conveni- ence . , the expediency of all men setting apart the same day, and almost the same hour, for their devo- tions, instead of leaving every man to his own ca- price, is too manifest to talk of. Without general rules as to time, the common business of life cannot go on ; neither can this, the business of eternity.” (( You only confirm me, by the term you use,” said Tremaine; 66 for can such a feeling as devotion be a matter of caprice ?” 228 TREMAINE. “ Not perhaps caprice,” answered Evelyn, “but it might soon come to be nothing at all. For left to his own impulses, never was there so uncertain, so dependent a being as man ! Your picture of a devout and grateful heart, I like full well. But if we were all left, as we listed, to fall down in the fields or in our chambers, I am afraid few knees would bend. We should first postpone, then neglect, then be in- different, and at last wicked; for, having offended God, by defrauding him of his worship, our consciences would perpetually prick us : this would cause unea- siness ; and we hate uneasiness : and rather than this, we should make the attempt to take refuge in infide- lity, and soon come to have no religion at all.” “My difference with you,” answered Tremaine, “ is, that you leave us with no will in this matter, no independence, but all must pray at once, and finish at once, like the troops of a certain German Landgrave, at the word of command ; and like them, if one be a little more devout than another, and so pray a minute or two longer, he is immediately caned for it.” The Doctor smiled. “ I will allow, if you please,” pursued Tremaine, “ that a church is not a bad thing with a view to enforce the devotion of the mob ; but you will not condescend to rest an abstract subject upon a mere particular argument. I of course speak only of the well-educated, the contemplative, the philosophic. — A bishop, according to you, is even in his piety a mere machine !” TREMAINE* 229 cc According to what you think I call a machine, he is so.” cs Will you explain this matter ?” “ I have already, in all that I have said upon our power, if we please, to command, or at least encou- rage, the proper frame of mind ; and this, whether in a bishop, or a private man. If this be done, it is no longer difficult to conceive a whole neighbour- hood, meeting all at one time, and in one mood, (and that mood a devout one,) to do in effect, what most wish, and all pretend. You may call this me- chanical if you will; but so mechanically are we composed, that example must always do much, and mutual example very much.” “ Example !” cried Tremaine ; u what can be its force with a reasoning mind ?” “ The force of sympathy,” answered Evelyn, “ which, in a matter of feeling as well as reason, and such I all along hold religion to be,) will always overpower every thing that reason, without feeling, may coldly attempt. Have we never heard of the beautiful line, “ And those that came to laugh, remain’d to pray ?” Get people then once to church, and give me but a few in a really devout mood, and I will answer for most of the rest.” “ Oh ! no doubt,” replied Tremaine, “and be sure in your sympathies you forget not the influence of the bells, the music of England ! I should be glad 230 TREMAINE. to follow your ingenuity in tracing the exact pro- gress of kindling piety, as the tolling changes from almost merriment to gravity, and from gravity to de- votion. There is first a deep chime, then a deep toll- ing, lastly a little minute-bell, while the vicar is put- ting on his surplice : but this mummery rather moves the spleen than raises devotion.” u But, with all due respect for your povrers of sarcasm,” rejoined Evelyn, u I see nothing to quar- rel with in our bells. If only as signals for a com- munity to assemble for the performance of a common duty, they are of use. “ Meeting you, however, on your own terms, I would say the associations which their sounds carry along with them, do, in effect, produce much of that influence which you endeavour to ridicule : and I defy any plain good man, who has religion in his heart, or even only in his imagination, to hear this invitation, without feeling a sort of magical sympa- thy, which will instantly render him serious, if not pious.” 6i I should be dissatisfied with such a sympathy.” “ Why?” “ Because it cannot, being artificial, lead to ge- nuine results,” said Tremaine. £C And yet you have often seen it do so, and felt it yourself,” replied Evelyn. u Never !” replied his friend. u Yes ! perhaps when 1 was a boy, without experience, and from be- ing new to every thing, capable of appreciating no- thing.” TREMAINE. 231 tc Rather, I should say,” replied Evelyn, “ capable of appreciating every thing, from not having been so- phisticated by any thing. But 1 meant not this,” continued he, “ when I said you had often felt it : for deeply have you felt it, in other sounds as well as those of a bell.” “ In what ?” asked Tremaine with curiosity. “A bugle,” answered Evelyn. “ A bugle !” “ Yes ! for give me leave to ask, if in the cam- paigns you made, in search of that experience which makes you so dissatisfied with every thing you do experience, you did not feel a glow, an eagerness of animation, whenever the bugle sounded, particularly if an enemy was near ?” “ I did,” said Tremaine. “ And why ? Because of its concomitant ideas. You thought of the field in motion,” continued Evelyn, 66 of battle joined, or about to join ; of the u plumed troop,” and every thing that you soldiers say can make ambition virtue ! In short, your ima- gination conjured up “ The royal banner, and all quality, “ Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war !” Ci You have hit the matter exactly,” said Tre- maine. “Probably too,” continued Evelyn, “the whole army partook of this generous ardour ?” “ Nothing more likely.” 232 TREMAINE. cc Then pray what is this but association, the ma- gical sympathy I talked of? And if all this arose, simply upon hearing one sort of sound, why may not I, or any other serious man (soldiers too, in our way), feel equally kindled at another?” Tremaine was again silent ; but it was no longer the silence of embarrassment, or of a man endeavour- ing to rally in an argument for victory. He felt con- vinced, and only hesitated as to the moment and the manner of shewing it. In the pause that ensued, he took several turns across the room, and at every turn eyed both his friends with softness and consciousness at the same time. Both were observing him ; and in Georgina in particular he was struck with a look of interest he had not hitherto seen. It seemed as if her heart was enquiring of his, whether it were possible he could hold out against not merely the piety, but the force of reasoning of her father. The thought determined, not indeed his reason, that had been fairly convinced, but his conduct ; and taking a hand of each of his companions, C( My dear friends,” said he, 6( it is in vain to push this any fur- ther. I own I have long argued for argument’s sake : I am conquered, and am happy to be so.” He said this with the air noble that belonged to him, and that air, together with what it sprung from, went deep into the heart of Georgina, He has religion in his soul, said she, as she left the room, and retired to her own. There she walked in silent musing for some time, revolving all she had TREMAINE. 23 3 beard, and the struggle, and the yielding she had witnessed. Tired at length, but not of her subject, she sat down at her window. The day threw a quiet- ness over the landscape she beheld from it ; and the train of her ideas corresponded with that quietness. Love and admiration of her father, and joy at the candour, and recovery as she thought it of the man she admired, gave a softness to her soul, which she took no pains to interrupt. She continued long and pensive in her seat ; and if ever happiness visited a mortal bosom, this innocent and pure creature felt it then. On the other hand, Evelyn, however pleased with the candour with which Tremaine seemed to return from error to the right path, was concerned to find his eccentricities so much wider than he had ever supposed them. What he had acknowledged made him lament to suspect that more remained behind; and the recent discovery which he thought he had made of his daughter’s partiality, produced a resolu- tion that he would sift the whole matter to the bot' tom, the very first opportunity. m TREMAINE. CHAP. XXV. te And have with holy bell been knoll’d to church.” SHAKSPEARE. It was not long before this good friend, and good father, was furnished with an occasion to clear up all his doubts ; and we are sorry to say, that his cer- tainties made him even more unhappy than his sus- picions. From what small circumstances the greatest events have arisen, so as to colour, and even change the fate of nations, has been the theme of many a poet, his- torian, and philosopher. That such is the course of things, must be still more true in the little history of private life. A mistake of Dr. Juniper’s housekeeper, in not properly apportioning the ingredients of his medi- cated gingerbread nuts (the only form under which the Doctor could suffer medicine to be administered to him), and which mistake happened most critically, on a Saturday, occasioned an indisposition which lasted all the next day, and prevented him from per- forming the church service at Woodington ; of which, be it remembered, he was the worthy Rector. It TREMAINE. 235 was the more unlucky, because the Doctor’s curate, who kept a little school in the village, in which he wasted his spirits for eight precious hours a-day, having dismissed all his scholars to one of their peri- odical vacations, had asked and obtained leave of his chief to dismiss himself to that happy idleness, so sweet to those who have earned it, so burthensome to those who get it for nothing. It was the only mo- ment of the year when Fortune seemed to place the deputy on a level with the principal ; if indeed she did not on such occasions elevate him a few degrees higher in the scale. Be this as it may, the curate was absent ; the Doctor was ill ; there was nobody to officiate ; the clerk was in dismay ; the whole village alarmed; and the sexton had actually begun tolling the bell, with- out being certain that a message which J uniper had sent over to his brother Rector at Evelyn, for the loan of his curate, would be attended with success. Conceive the delight of all the functionaries of Woodington parish, to say nothing of the Squire of Woodington himself, when Dr. Evelyn’s post-chaise, with his fat, long-tailed geldings, and their round- sided driver, was seen to enter the Hall gates, from which it was but a walk across the garden to the church. Nearly all the congregation were already assembled. Though Tremaine had little other communication with Juniper than that of mere civility, having in fact scarcely ever entered his parish church since his 236 TREMAINE. arrival, yet so great an event as a Rector’s illness on a Sunday morning, and during the absence of his cu- rate, could not fail of being made known to him, as it was by the pious Watson, together with the means taken to obviate the difficulty. He was therefore more pleased than surprised, to receive his visitors from Evelyn Hall, for both were, as usual, together. Evelyn had in fact, as soon as he received Juniper’s message, resolved to attend himself, and leave his own parish for that one morning to his curate ; in which, it must be owned, he was not without design : for he thought it might be a mean to tempt Tremaine to church ; and once there, he trusted to his always high notion of the efficacy of public worship, to pro- duce some good, however small, to the balancing mind of his friend. If the whole truth be demanded of us, we may perhaps be obliged to confess (and why should we be ashamed of it), that this good man ex- pected, or at least hoped, that some little of the good he wished for might arise from his own exertions. If he, however, did hope thus, let it not be sup- posed that it was from any inflation of spirit, any of that tingling, tickling self-complacency, which smooths the brow, while it appears most wrapt in humility, of that well-known character, a popular preacher in a London pulpit. With the hope then that has been mentioned, Evelyn furnished himself with what he thought would be an appropriate sermon for the pulpit at Woodington; not conceiving that Woodington’s TREMAINE. 237 master could refuse his attendance. Nor in this last was he deceived, for to his own satisfaction, and Georgina’s great pleasure, Tremaine offered instantly to escort them into the church, where the belfry seem- ed to be giving way under the redoubled strokes of the honest sexton above mentioned, who, at the en- trance of so great a divine as Evelyn was every where considered, knolled in a sort of triumph, proportion- ed to the fears he had entertained, lest there should be no divine at all. The whole church-yard too, which by this time was full, saluted the Squire and his well-known guests; and great was the elation of Mrs. Watson, and many her condescending nods and bows, exchanged with the better sort of her pa- rish neighbours, smirking in their clean shirts, sab- bath-day suits, and new-shaven beards, and throng- ing about her, to notice the phenomenon of seeing the Squire at church. “ Doctor be so ill, we thought there’d bin no ser- vice,” said one. 66 I spy’d un first. I know heavy Solomon and his long tails half a mile off,” said ano- ther. u I dare say a’ll make a foin discourse,” cried a third. u Meeting be quoit desarted,” observed a fourth. u Yes, and old Mr. Barnabas is quoit hag- gled with it,” exclaimed a fifth. By this time the surplice bell was done, and Eve- lyn in the desk, turning over the leaves ; and so great an attention had this little novelty, combined with their respect for him, excited among these simple people, that instead of the usual scraping of hob- TREMAINE. > 238 nails, a pin had been heard if it had fallen that morn- ing in Woodington church. Tremaine took his seat by Georgina, in the Hec- tor’s pew, abandoning his own in the gallery above, hung all over with crimson cloth. Behind, were seats of green baize, filled by his numerous domes- tics, all save Monsieur Dupuis, who, under pretence of being a Catholic, denied himself utterly to all Mrs. Watson’s entreaties, nay even her tears, to be pre- sent upon this occasion ; which, some how or ano- ther, had assumed an air of peculiar solemnity. Reader, I am perfectly aware to how much I have exposed myself, by entering into all these minutiae, in a matter of such seemingly little moment, as a strange clergyman preaching in a country church. I shall perhaps be accused of twaddling, and re- minded of the by-gone days of Sir Roger de Co- verley. But the truth is, that this particular Sunday, and this very church attendance, were most critical in determining much of the fate of two very excel- lent persons, in a manner perhaps such as the reader does not expect ; and I feel obliged to describe every thing that led to it. But even if it had not been so, I am not ashamed of my subject; which, whatever Lady Gertrude or Mr. Beaumont may think to the contrary, must ever be an interesting one to human nature, while the heart of that nature beats. u If ever the poor man holds up his head (says language better than mine), c£ it is at church : if ever the rich man view him with respect, it is there : and TREMAINE. 239 both will be the better, and the public profited, the oftener they meet in a situation in which the consci- ousness of dignity in the one is tempered and miti- gated, and the spirit of the other erected and con- firmed.”^) Despise not therefore the little anxieties which the chance of losing their service and their sermon had occasioned in the hearts of these plain, or, if you will, these uncouth people. Analyze those anxie- ties, and dissect those hearts, and your own will possibly not shew above them, even though you may be Right Honourable, and breathless perhaps from the favourable or unfavourable appearance of the House, on some night critical to the place, power, and influence of those whom nothing but place, power, and influence, can excite. Supposing that some of my readers have been to church, and supposing them to have one spark of religious feeling in their composition ; or if that is too much, supposing, what all would be affronted not to have supposed concerning them, that they possess what is called taste, imagination, a glow of thought and warmth of soul — why then they will at some time or another of their lives have been pene- trated with the pathetic beauty of our affecting Li- turgy. It survives even the dull obtuseness of the hard-hearted machines, which sometimes are per- mitted, for our sins, to obscure and depress it by their (a) Paley’s Moral Philosophy, Vol. II. p. 56. 240 TREMAINE. leaden delivery. What must it have been in the mouth of one of kindred spirit with those who composed it ? Such a one was Evelyn. The impressiveness of his manner we have talked of in other things ; but here he seemed inspired, though he was merely sin- cere in his feeling, and plain in his enunciation. Tremaine never was so struck. With his imagi- nation and warmth of feeling, the reader indeed is acquainted, as well as with his endeavours to mar and stifle them, from the unhappy cast of his artifi- cial life and studies. “ Vain wisdom all and false philosophy.” From this laudable impulse, he strove to check the rising feelings of nature ; which, not a little aided by the sight of Georgina by his side, in the purest acts of devotion, as her father read on, grew almost too strong for him. We grieve to say, the philosopher conquered, and the man of nature, after a struggle, was forced to yield, and thought he felt all the sympathies upon which Evelyn had so well enlarged in their last con- versation upon the subject ; although he bent his knee, and even whispered out a hope that he might be enlightened, if really he w as in error ; yet he rose without his hope being heard : his pride of reasoning returned, and he forced himself to think, that there was no proof of the reasonableness of his feelings beyond sympathy, and that that sympathy was weak- ness. TREMAINE. 241 In this train of thought he was ill prepared for the sermon that followed ; that sermon from which Eve- lyn, with honest confidence, had hoped such good effects. The text was a solemn one . — 66 The foolish body hath said in his heart, there is no God.” It went on, u Tush they say, how should God perceive it ; is there knowledge in the Most High?” u These are the ungodly, these prosper in the world, and these have riches in possession, and I said, then have I cleansed my heart in vain.” The discourse, such as might be expected from the preacher; the moral as well as the natural go- vernment of the world, by Him who created it; his competency ; his willingness ; the necessity for his interference ; his actual interposition ; in short, the whole proof of Providence, though by second causes ; lastly the immortality of the soul, a future judgment, and the certainty of retribution ; — all these formed the topics of the most impressive sermon to which Tremaine had ever listened. With whatever im- pression, not a word of it was lost. In fact, it at least so far answered Evelyn’s hope, that Tremaine’s mind seemed filled with it, and after the congregation were dismissed, and his guests had accompanied him to the house, previous to their re- turning home, far from doing the honours with his usual alacrity of attention, he became abstracted and silent, and with even Georgina still by his side, seemed to wish to be alone. VOL. II. M 242 TREMAINE. Evelyn observed this as well as his daughter, and partly hoping, partly believing the cause, and wish- ing him to ponder the momentous subject which he saw agitating him, took his leave at once, and re* mounting his substantial vehicle, returned home. CHAP. XXVI. CONFESSION. MR. TREMAINE FORFEITS ALL PRETENSIONS TO FASHION. “Oh, thou eternal mover of the heavens, “ Look with an eye of pity on this wretch V* SHAKSPEAltE. At home and alone, and the world once more shut out, the mind of Tremaine gave a loose to the serious train of thought which had now been gene- rated. The subject had always been of the very first importance to his feelings, and he had always fled from it as a matter he could not settle with himself, rather than as one he had already settled on the side which his fastidious doubts made him support. The clear and decided opinions which Evelyn had promulgated from the pulpit, sat so naturally upon TREMAINE. 243 him, as to give him the air and weight of an apostle. But from this very circumstance, such was the strange and tortuous cast of his understanding, that Tremaine set a guard upon himself, lest it should influence him improperly. 44 Truth,” lie said, 44 might be disguised, but never demonstrated, by air and manner.” A kind of false honour, therefore, combined for a time, with false notions, to produce the obstinate resistance he was inclined to make against his better feelings. He yielded, however, so far as to exclaim, 44 Oh that this strong-minded man could be successful in convincing me ! But adoration and thanksgiving are not prayer ; and even a particular Providence, which is every where denied by experience, may exist in this life, without a life to come!” Still his prejudices were so far beaten down, that he turned his eyes inwardly on himself, and was far, very far from easy with the scrutiny. 44 I am myself an instance,” said he, 44 of one of my friend’s sagacious remarks, that left to ourselves as to duty, we shall first postpone, then neglect, and then renounce. Alas ! that I could recall those happy moments of gratitude to heaven, when in the morning of life all things promised gladness, and I was glad ! Yet then I was poor, and my fate uncer- tain. Now that I am lord of this wide and beauti. ful domain, how changed, how hardened is my heart ! Such, oh world ! are thy spoiled children ! — such the rewards of unceasing dissipation.” m 2 244 TREMAINE. “ For swinish gluttony “ Ne’er looks to Heav’n amidst his gorgeous feast, “ But with besotted, base ingratitude, “ Crams, and blasphemes his feeder !” He could not support his emotions, but rushing out of doors, and plunging into a dark and retired walk, taxed his heart, with all the bitterness of re- morse. The walk led him insensibly to a spring, which his uncle, (a contemplative man, the last posses- sor of Woodington) had nursed with great care. After winding under a very beautiful bank, it seemed to repose in a basin, which it was doubtful whe- ther nature or art had prepared for it, so neat, yet so wild was its appearance. It here had all the clearness and all the stillness of an immense mir- ror ; but on its margin art showed itself in a manner not to be mistaken : for not only some benches surrounded a well kept turf, but the busts of several of the dead, the honour of England’s piety, as well as England’s philosophy, filled the eye with interest, and fixed its attention. They were of Ba- con, Milton, Newton, Cudworth, and Locke, to which had been more recently added Clarke and Johnson. It was the joint work of the late Mr. Tremaine and of Evelyn, on whose grounds it bordered. But the present master of Woodington knew very little of this possession of his ; for he had visited it but once, and with that glazed apathy with which TREMAINE. 245 the state of his mind, when he first came down, made him visit every thing. He recollected indeed, that when he saw these consecrated busts, he had resolved to add those of Bolingbroke, Shaftsbury, and Voltaire, to the number ; but the resolution had been laid aside, together with the remembrance of the place itself. In his present frame of mind, his entrance into this assembly, (for such it appeared) struck him as if be had viewed the gardens of Academus. He fell into deep musing as he looked at these busts, and recognized the character and works of those they represented. “ They were great men,” said he, “and certainly as to intellect, the pride of their species. Alas ! why cannot I think as they?” He walked the border of the spring, in a sort of agitated pace, now looking up to heaven, now on the features of the departed sages. “ They were also,” he added, 66 sincere in their opinions, and at the very least, as wise, and a great deal more learned, than those who opposed them !” — and he thought of Bolingbroke. “ How then can I refuse to yield to such autho- rity ? Why is my soul so stiff? I will not indeed, like the sceptic, doubt of every thing, but I can be certain of nothing. Oh ! God, enlighten me, and touch my heart !” At that moment he was a little surprised, but not ill-pleased with the sight of his friend. m 3 246 TREMAINE. It has been observed that the spring and its orna* merits had been in part the work of Evelyn, and that it bordered upon his grounds. This and an entrance key, together with the beautiful retirement of the place, made it in fact more an object of enjoyment to Eve- lyn, than, as it happened, to the owner himself. Accordingly, it was here Evelyn frequently came to sooth himself in meditation, when meditation was his object ; at which times he could dispense with the presence even of Georgina. A single glance sufficed to shew Evelyn that the mind of his friend was by no means at ease. Indeed, we have but ill depicted him, if, with all his faults, the reader has not perceived long ago, that whatever was the opinion or the feeling uppermost, it was immediately to be read on his brow, or in his deport- ment. In fact, no child was less master of that useful and meritorious art, so necessary to all who set up to govern or lead mankind, but which had through his whole career failed this eccentric gentleman, namely, dissimulation. I think he could not there- fore, even if he would, have concealed from Evelyn^ that his reason and his feeling were at that moment in contention together. To the Doctor’s question whether any thing had happened to disturb him, he replied with frankness, and almost with eagerness— “ Yes, a great deal.” Really, misled by this eagerness, his friend proceeding to enquire what, he fairly told him. — “ Your sermon. I give you joy,” he continued, 66 of your powers of TREMAINE. 247 argument and elucidation, of your rhetoric, your feeling, your piety, and eloquence. Would to God I could give you and myself as much joy of your powers of convincing.” “ Is that necessary to do you good ?” asked Evelyn. “It would make me a happier man,” said Tre- maine. Evelyn perceived at once the fact, and the cause of the commotion his friend seemed to be in, and thought the time was come, when he might lay open his principles, and examine his mind, as he wished. He probed him deeply, and the result was not happy. The authority of the ancient academies, and the perpetual undermining of the moderns ; the pomp of Shaftsbury ; the glitter of Bolingbroke ; the specious- ness of Hume ; and the wit of Voltaire, had, by being continually pondered, acquired a sort of mechanical ascendency over this determined enemy of all me- chanism ; and he had habitually accustomed himself to think only of them, without considering the sacred book, or the immense authority on the other side. He knew indeed that these existed : he had formerly felt their force; but having, as he thought, chosen his creed, he had for some time purposely shunned them ; and the yearnings which every now and then he could not prevent, he represented as the effect of mere early prejudice. His disposition of mind, however, was at present m 4 248 TREMAINE. any thing but proud. His heart was even softened ; but it was a human heart; and inconceivable are the wanderings and turnings, the sudden emotions, kin- dled we know not by what power, and impelled we know not by what accidents, which move and direct, and melt or congeal that wayward heart. Evelyn could meet with no satisfaction. He found, he said, the mind of his friend in a heap of ruins. Atheism was the only evil opinion from which he was exempt. Deism, scarcely understood even by himself, and obscured by constant doubt; a poor opinion of human nature, scarcely distinguishing it from brute ; a labyrinth of he knew not what notions, about a plan without any intelligible object, and a consequent necessity for order, the nature of which, however, he could no where discover, but which sufficed to make him utterly dzs-believe God’s moral government of the world, and at least not believe in the certainty of a future judgment ; — all these were tenets, or rather no tenets, which filled Evelyn’s heart with horror. On the other hand, there was no assistance from authority or revealed religion, in which, if he did not utterly reject it, he had lost all confidence, and from which he derived no consola- tion. In short, he was without even hope. The effect of this in regard to any man, on the mind of Evelyn, may be conceived. But to see the man he loved, and in many respects admired ; one in whose mind so many good and even brilliant qualities TREMAINE. 249 met ; one made for so much better things ; and above all, one on whom his daughter might possibly the thought harrowed him. With an agitation he could not conceal, and with even tears in his eyes, he grasped Tremaine’s hand, and mournfully told him the distress into which the discovery had plunged him. Tremaine, much moved, begged him not to despair for him. He confessed fairly that his mind was a wreck, but that he was himself aware of many so- phisms ; and that he was too uneasy under what he really hoped were delusions, not to hope that he might yet be enlightened. And he began, he said, almos: to believe that Evelyn had been given him as his friend, for that very purpose. With a brow a little cheered, Evelyn again squeezed his hand. “ Such candour,” says he, u deserves every assist- ance. Need I say that all I have the power of ren- dering, my best services, my heart’s warmest zeal, are yours ?” Tremaine assured him he knew they were, and at any rate told him not to conceive literally that he was a determined Infidel, and careless and indifferent from being determined; but lather to look upon him as a philosophical searcher after truth, anxious and happy to find her wherever she might be. Evelyn replied, that provided there were really no prejudices, he hoped the search might prove neither difficult, nor long. m 5 250 TREMAINE. 66 It will serve us many an hour,” said Tremaine, “ and will only knit us more closely together.” 66 Alas ! my poor Georgina,” thought Evelyn. It was then settled that they should lose no oppor- tunity of discussing what was of such stupendous importance in the minds of both ; the anxiety of Evelyn, however, being certainly not confined to the interests of one individual. The multifarious, as well as absorbing interests which prevented these opportunities from arising, till all seemed hopeless and lost for all the parties con- cerned, will be found in the following chapters. CHAP. XXVII. MUTUAL CONFIDENCE. “ And I of ladies most deject and wretched, tf< Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, “ Like sweet bells jangled out of tune.” SHAKSPEARE. The rest of the day was passed by both the friends in much seriousness. Tremaine shut himself up at Woodington, after having asked Evelyn to stay with him to dinner, and then retracted the invitation. He thought, he said r TREMAINE. 251 it would do him most good to be alone ; to which Evelyn observed he would for once assent. At his own table, though enlivened by Georgina, and Careless, who had complained of having been lately as he said much cut by them, Evelyn was himself remarkably thoughtful, and did not enter in- to Jack’s gossip about the neighbourhood by any means as Jack wished; or, to own the truth, as Evelyn was himself frequently inclined to do. “ This Mounseer Melancholy,” (for so he some- times called Tremaine,) “ seems to have infected you all,” said Careless, after having in vain tried to bring out either the Doctor or his daughter into ge- neral conversation. “ You used to like an account of a day’s fishing, especially when I brought you the spoil, as I did to day, a thing he never did in his life. However, my Becky is right about him after all,” concluded Jack. ec In what?” asked Georgina, with some interest. u Nay, you need not be touchy about it,” returned the guest. “Touchy!” said Georgina, with a degree more of whatever feeling she had shewn. 66 Why yes ! touchy ; for you will never now let me have a laugh at Woodington landlord ; and the last time we talked of him, you quarrelled with me for calling him Mounseer Melancholy.” Georgina slightly blushed at perceiving her father was examining them both, and was relieved by his asking Jack what it was Mrs. Becky had said. 252 TREMAINE. “ Why you see,” replied he, “I would hold my Becky’s judgment against that of e’er a she in the county. She often gives me good advice, not merely as to pigs and poultry, but upon the world* She has seen a great deal of the world you know.” He said this hesitatingly, as if to know whether Evelyn would agree with him. “ No doubt,” replied the Doctor. a A sergeant of militia’s wife must necessarily know a great deal of the world, especially when she follows her husband to the wars. I think the West York has been all the way to Cornwall, and was full a year in Dover Castle.” u I think you are about quizzing me,” replied Careless ; u but if you were to hear Becky of a win- ter’s evening, when she comes in to stir up my fire, and perhaps make my tea, while I am reading the York Herald, you would say she was no fool.” Though the Doctor was little disposed to it, both Evelyn and Georgina laughed, yet in truth they had both a great deal of respect for this good domestic. “ But what is it she says of our neighbour ?” asked Evelyn. C( Why after all, to use her own expression, that he is but a bingle bangle man, and that no good will come on him.” M I should be sorry to think that,” said Georgina, yet still with something like consciousness at seeing herself again observed by her father. “ Becky says,” continued Careless, u he is one of TREMAINE. 253 them men that thinks us all in the wrong box, and that none but themselves can get us out of it.” u That is a deep observation of Mrs. Becky,” said Evelyn. u Is it not rather taking a liberty with a person so much her superior,” observed Georgina, u and ought you to encourage it?” u How can I prevent it,” returned Jack; u be- sides it would hurt the poor creature sadly, if I did not talk to her now and then, and I should be as lonely and moping as the squire hiinselfi 6C However, this is not all that Becky says.” u Pray edify us with the whole,” cried the Doctor. u I will if you and Georgy won’t snap me for it. She says no good will come on him in the way of matrimony, he has so many strange new-fangled no- tions : that he has used several young ladies very ill, by shilly shallowing ; and hopes he is not playing the same game with you, my dear Georgy. So now the secret’s out.” Spite of Georgina’s knowledge of Jack’s abrupt- ness, and indeed her almost expectation, though without knowing why, of something similar to this allusion, she became sufficiently uncomfortable at the speech to feel embarrassed. Her father interfered by observing it was neither pleasant nor advantageous to have a young woman’s name coupled with a gentleman’s, and subject to comments from people who could know nothing about the matter. 254 TREMAINE. “ But they will do it,” said Jack, briskly, u and I could no more stop Becky ” u Than yourself,” observed Evelyn with some gravity. “ 1 at least am in the wrong box I find,” cried Careless; “ but I cou’dn’t help thinking I was right in putting you on your guard, for if any body, even Squire Tremaine himself, was to use Georgy ill, I’ll be ” ee Don’t swear,” said Evelyn, good humouredly. w Well, all I meant to say was, it should be the worse for him the longest day he had to live,” con- cluded Jack. c( You are a true friend,” said Georgina, stretch- ing out her hand to him and smiling; (( but indeed in this case there is no occasion to try your regard.” u I am sorry for it,” blundered Careless. “ That’s odd too,” said Evelyn, u considering that it can only be proved in the way you talk of, by sup- posing your friend Georgy to be ill-used.” u Wrong again I see,” said Jack; “ but what I mean is, that I am sorry there is nothing in it ; for Squire is a fine man, and a rich after all — that is if Georgy could fancy him. But to say truth I could wish something livelier for her. He is more suited to Lady Gertrude than my lass.” u Let us change the conversation,” said Evelyn. 66 I am dumb,” exclaimed Careless. When Jack had taken his leave, which he did that evening early, having promised, he said, the mother TREMAINE. 255 of his god-child, who lived a mile or two off, to hear how well he could say the Primer, Evelyn, at her own invitation, walked with Georgina to the rookery. They were each to the other unaccountably silent. The Doctor seemed much occupied with ascertaining when the colony would return to bed from their daily field excursions; and Georgina adopted the subject for a time, as if she thought no other was uppermost either with her father or herself. At length, after playing a minute or two with his hand, she observed, 66 I think, papa, you said you had had a long conference with Mr. Tremaine, after church this morning ?” “ I had indeed, my child,” returned Evelyn ; “ and may the good God bless the result !” u It was then interesting ?” (( To the very greatest degree ; and if I admire, I pity our friend, more and more.’’ C( Pity !” exclaimed Georgina. 66 I must pity,” said her father, “ a worthy and highly-gifted man, who is evidently unhappy.” 64 Unhappy ! and from what cause?” “ From the sad riot which prejudice and too much liberty and indulgence have made with his mind.” u Can Mr. Tremaine be that sort of person?” asked Georgina. u He can, and is and yet I have hopes of him : his heart seems in the right place.” 46 It seems an excellent heart to those who under- stand it,” observed Georgina. 256 TREMAINE. u Are you one of them, my girl ?” asked the Doctor shrewdly. “ Ts it a heart you have at all studied, or in which you have at all an interest?” u Studied ! interest !” echoed Georgina — cc Oh dear no! As your friend, and one you so often say yourself is fitted for better things, and indeed he is very much improved of late I say as one, — so fond of you ; and I may add so kind and attentive to us both, that is, as ” ec Proceed,” continued Evelyn, seeing her still hesitate; u I am really anxious to know what you would say.” u I scarcely know myself,” said Georgina, “ and indeed, my dear Sir ” u I won’t be Sir’d,” cried the Doctor. “ Well then, my dear father, as one who certainly shews the greatest deference for you , and a sort of respect and kindness in his manner towards me , which I cannot describe, but which no other ever shewed ” “ You have seen no other, my dear,” interrupted Evelyn, “ but our friend Jack, and Lord St. Clair ; — and to be sure, lately, Mr. Beaumont and Sir Mar- maduke Crabtree.” ct Oh ! they cannot be named with him,” ex- claimed Georgina. ec And yet, except honest Jack, they are all men of fashion,” returned her father. (s But not of feeling, of goodness, of delicacy,” proceeded Miss Evelyn. TREMAINE* 257 (i I cry you mercy,” exclaimed the Doctor; “ I did not know you had been so well acquainted with these qualities in our world hater.” “ Oh he hates nobody, only dislikes impertinent people, and is good and delicate to all. Witness his friend Colonel Osmond, and Melainie — and as for Lady Gertrude and Miss Neville, you yourself say you would have done as he did.” “ He has at least an active defender in my good daughter,” replied Evelyn; “and to that good daughter I must now seriously address myself, for I want to probe her little heart to the bottom.” It was well for Georgina that the evening sun had “ Stretched out all the hills, “ And now had dropt into the western bay in short, that the shadows w T ere thickening apace ; for the suffusion of her cheek she would have sought in vain to conceal. Some scattered rooks returning before the rest, made a shew of diversion in her favour, and she too began to be curious about their motions ; but recovering in a moment, and pressing her father’s arm, she said with a subdued but clear voice, that she had not a thought she wished to conceal. “ There spoke my sweetest girl, my little confidant, my own Georgy,” said the Doctor delighted. “ You heard,” continued he, u the half meanings brought by our friend Jack to day, the gossip no doubt of Mrs. Becky, but also no doubt of his and our own village, and probably of Woodington itself. And I own, my love, 1 have many reasons, much as I like Tremaine, 258 TREMAINE. why I do not wish your names coupled together : at least not until two or three important points are cleared.” “ May I know them ?” asked Georgina. “You have the most entire right to do so,” replied her father. “ In the first place, I know nothing of our neigh- bour’s heart.” Georgina was silent. “ That he is fond of woman’s society, and natu- rally respectful, and even tender in his manner to them where he esteems, is clear. It is equally clear, (for how should it be otherwise ?) that he esteems my sweet George.” These last words instantly dispelled all remains of embarrassment, if there were any, in the mind or manner of the young lady ; for whenever her father used the phrase of “ my sweet George,” she knew that her always high favour with him w r as then at the highest. “ Still,” added Evelyn, u I know nothing of the real working of a fine gentleman’s mind ; and how- ever abrupt and obscure, and I will say unfounded, our good Careless’s declaration may be about the ill usage of young ladies, still it cannot be disguised that he has paid attentions, impelled by his heart at the moment, which he has afterwards discontinued. I know it was his refinement that occasioned this, and I verily believe him the soul of honour ; but whatever the cause, the effect upon the female has been the same.” TREMAINE. m u Do you think then,” said Georgina, “ that Lady Gertrude was capable of that sort of love to be hurt by his loss ?” “ I do not,” replied Evelyn, “ but she may be angry on other accounts, and at any rate is the talk of the world.” “True,” observed Georgina, lost in reflection. “ Still,” pursued Evelyn, “ I do not mean that it is even possible for him to use a woman ill.” “ It is impossible,” cried Georgina. “ I say I believe so,” rejoined her father — “ but spoiled children may be capricious, and the disparity between us in point of fortune — though that,” added Evelyn, checking himself, u cannot be,” — and his own disinterested, delicate mind, spoke for his friend, and banished the thought for ever. “ There spoke my dear father,” said Georgina. “ Thank you,” continued Evelyn ; “ but then again there is another disparity, which 1 have no doubt would weigh with him much, if it would not decide the. thing against him with a mistress, sup- posing her to be young, and lively, and active as my little girl.” Georgina made no answer, and he went on to say, “ All these things put together have given me some painful doubts, even without another of a far more serious sort, as to the mind of this fastidious person, who, it is evident, would allow his heart to burst, if he were really in love, which I know not,” conti- nued Evelyn, “ that he is ” 260 TREMAINE. “ I am sure, nor I,” rejoined Georgina, perceiving that her father waited for her : at the same time a suppressed sigh escaped from her. “ He would allow it to burst I say,” continued her father, “rather than marry, or offer to marry the per- son he most loved on earth, if he were not sure that he was loved for his own sake in return, whatever his faults, errors, or disparities.” 66 Call we blame him ?” observed Georgina. ec No, indeed,” replied Evelyn ; u but all this be- speaks an uncertainty, which makes me, I own, trem- ble for my little girl.” u You must not, my dearest father : if I know my- self, you need not.’* “ If!” said Evelyn. “ And why should I not ?” asked Georgina, with firmness. “ Has my heart usually so many conceal" ments from you , much less from its mistress ? Has it ever played me double ? — ever refused to answer when l have tasked it ?” “ No indeed,” said Evelyn. u You have ever been the truest, honestest being that ever father was blessed with ; and may the Almighty Father of all bless you for ever for it !” At these words he opened his arms, and Georgina threw herself into them, and wetted his cheek with tears as precious as virtuous feeling, joined to filial piety, ever shed. Recovering themselves, they sat down on a bench which they had by this time reached. It was encir- TREMAINE. 261 cled by a thousand flowers, which, as well as the fresh grass of the adjoining field, seemed to emit peculiar sweetness ; and the stillness and softness of the even- ing appeared such as they had never enjoyed before. But all this was in the mind ; without which, pro- perly attuned, neither flowers, nor fields, nor 44 grate- ful evening mild,” will have any effect upon wayward man. 44 Tell me then,” my love, 44 continued Evelyn, 44 for it is most fit I should know, how stands this dear heart towards this fascinating man — fascinating, with all his errors ?” 44 Ah ! those errors !” cried Georgina. 44 What means my girl by this ; and to what par- ticular errors does she allude ?” 44 Alas !” replied Georgina, 44 I fear they are such as cannot be passed over. His little disgusts and prejudices about the world ; his refinements and fas- tidiousness ; all these are nothing, or might be cured ; or if not cured, might yield to his excellent qualities, his honour, sincerity, and generous spirit, to say no- thing of his genius and his taste.” 44 Has he all this?” said Evelyn, in a tone of scrutiny, as well as some anxiety. 44 I have promised to be honest,” observed Geor- gina. 44 Be so, my love.” 44 Well then,” proceeded Georgina, 44 to me he has all this, together with a manner and countenance, and altogether a gentility , such as his years can never extinguish.” 262 TREMAINE. 66 That is going very far,” observed Evelyn, with the same anxiety. 66 But with all this,” continued she, u and with what would be ten thousand times more, u What is that?” asked Evelyn hastily. u A conviction which I am very far indeed from having ; that he loves me ” TREMAINE. 287 Monsieur Dupuis asked her if she took him for one of the canaille, or if he looked like a man disappoint- ed in love ? He boasted that he and his master were, in this respect, very different people, and announced his intention of taking another place. u Ici,” said the Frenchman. “ Je m’ennuie a perir.” Of the designs at Mount St. Clair she could make out little or nothing, except that old Lady St. Clair had confessed her wish to Madame Deville, her wo- man, that her son should marry, and that Miss Evelyn> of whom she had always been very fond, and was her relation, should be the object of his addresses. Both the events however were in the opinion of the pious Watson, not only within a contingency, but even a probability. The alliance had been the talk of the country till Tremaine came down; and as to the conversion, the very circumstance of his former disbelief made it likely, as Providence, she said, was always most busy with those who were most disposed to rebel against its power. Be all this as it might, the conjectures and reason- ings of the housekeeper’s room, upon the state of affairs in the library or drawing-room, might in general have been much more distant from reality than in this instance. Tremaine, as we have seen, was occupied with the Bible, which he was much more used to criticise than to examine ; and in the midst of the conference on the report of the intended marriage, no less a person than Mrs. Margaret her- self arrived to take part, and to confirm it. 288 TREMAINE. The Woodington housekeeper received her at first with some distance, gave her a stately kind of bow, and was so dignifiedly civil, that Mrs. Mar- garet began to suspect all was not right, not only in the housekeeper’s room, but in the cabinet of Woodington itself. The eagerness however with which Mrs. Mar- garet came to announce that Lady St. Clair had the evening before written a very long letter to Miss Georgy, who had shewn it to her papa, and that that very evening the young lord had arrived ; this, together with no indisposition to join in the com- ments that were made upon it, dissipated all notion in the president of Woodington, that she had de- signedly been kept out of the secret, and with this her good humour and condescension returned. “ And yet,” said Watson, u I shall be very sorry if this news is true. I loved Miss Georgy so much, that I hoped she would have been my lady here ; but Providence knows best.” C( Indeed.” observed Winter, 66 that’s what I say; and as your master, Mrs. Watson, is so long about it, and St. Clair is quite as near to the Doctor as Woodington, and my lord so much younger, indeed so much upon the square as one may say with Miss Georgy as to age, and my old lady wishes it so much, and so very fond of her, and the house so gay, and all that why I think perhaps its best after all.” u But is it settled ?” asked Mrs. Watson. TREMAINE. 289 (£ l can’t make out exactly,” replied the virgin ; (C but to be sure it will be, without a doubt : — no shilly shallying there ; and I know my mistress was very serious indeed all the morning after she got the old lady’s letter ; and I listened when she and the Doctor were together, but could hear nothing, only I’m sure they were talking about it ; and to be sure there will be a large jointer, as indeed so there ought, consider- ing all Evelyn will be her’s, and a handsome fortin besides.” u You seem to have quite settled this matter,” said Watson with some stiffness. u La ! settled ! no ! only what must be, must be, you know.” u True,” said Watson with resignation, and began to meditate upon predestination. The result of all this was, that Dupuis, finding his friend Monsieur Martin was arrived, and that it was a very fine evening, resolved to proceed to Mount St. Clair, as he said to faire une reconnoissance; for which purpose he gave his orders to Jonathan the groom to saddle one of his master’s horses; an order which Jonathan did not dare to disobey. The two housekeepers, after half an hour’s walk towards Evelyn, separated, each of them resolved, that very night, if possible, to sound the intentions and feelings of their respective chiefs. VOL. II. O 290 TREMAINE. CHAP. XXXII. WHICH EVEN AN EXCLUSIVE MAY ALMOST UNDERSTAND. “ When I would pray and think, I think and pray, ** To several subjects. Heav’n hath my empty words ; (t Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, “ Anchors on Isabel.” SHAKSPEARE. Strange as it may seem, though the chances of executing their purpose were altogether in favour of Mrs. Winter, the good Watson was nearest success. Mrs. Margaret indeed consumed an unusual portion of time at her young lady’s undressing ; had every thing to pin and unpin, fold and unfold, as if she had suddenly become forgetful, lame, or awkward ; reliev- ing the delay, however, by an unusual portion of con- versation, if conversation it could be called, where one of the parties alone seemed endowed with the gift of speech. Georgina was in truth unusually silent, nay absent, and seemingly in no hurry to get to bed; which made her the less sensible of her duenna’s uncommon slow- ness, but at the same time less alive to the hints and gossip with which she interlarded all the delays of the toilette. But though Mount St. Clair, and old Lady St. Clair’s fondness for her young mistress, and TREMAINE. 291 the young peer’s arrival in the country, as well as his fortune, accomplishments, and good person, were often mentioned, Mrs. Margaret could in fact get nothing out of Georgina, who seemed wrapt in thought, till her attendant was forced, from having exhausted all pretences for farther loitering, to leave her for the night. A sanguine, keen mind, however, is never at a loss; that sort of mind which is formed for great exertions and discoveries, and causes all the great things that happen in the world. This prolific mind is precisely the same, whether in a statesman, philosopher, or chamber-maid; only in the last it is bent, for the most part, on merely discovering a secret ; in the others, on turning it to politicaraccount, or twisting every thing to an hypothesis : and this sort of mind to a certain extent did Mrs. Margaret possess. Re- solving therefore not to be baffled in her own ex- pectations and opinions, and what was much more, in her representation of them, so recently made, she very fairly set down all this reserve and absence on the part of her young lady to feelings perfectly accordant to her own view of the subject, and re- garded it as the strongest possible confirmation of all the surmises she had hazarded. A.nd in this I should be glad to know how she differed from the most far-sighted politician or philosopher of them all. She was quite sure, she said, that unless Miss Georgina had been thinking still of Lady St. Clair’s letter, and that letter had contained the young lord’s o 2 292 TREMAINE. proposals, she would never have been so silent or so long in undressing. And this notion got such posses- sion of her, that she would that very night have com- municated her intelligence to her friend at Wooding- ton, but that she was deterred by certain doubts and difficulties as to writing and spelling; in which it must be owned her education had been lamentably deficient. We have said that Watson succeeded better; and as far as communicating to her master the great design of the St. Clair family, she did so. Tremaine had, we will not say “ Supp’d full of horrors,” but he had dined full of the most serious thoughts and arguments upon the great subject which had engaged him that morning with Evelyn. We have also remarked that in whatever shape the father pre- sented himself, he was now always accompanied by the idea of his daughter. Never had either Tremaine’s head or heart been so full. He felt in regard to the present state of his mind on religious subjects, that there was a connec- tion between himself and his neighbours, for which he could not exactly account, but which he also felt w r as of infinite importance to him. It is not without some reluctance that we record this ; for we had rather his serious and eager endea- vour to come round to Evelyn’s opinions had been beyond the reach of suspicion, and altogether uncon- TREMAINE. 293 nected with any other feeling than that pure desire to satisfy his doubts, and recover his piety, with which he was certainly actuated. But though his feeling was really thus pure, the truth we have consulted throughout this history obliges us to admit, that the pleasure he felt in the hope of light once more breaking in upon his long darkened mind, was at least heightened by the thought that he and Georgina, his dear Georgina, would be more and more alike in their way of think- ing. This was the subject of his long reverie before dinner ; and it was the recollection that she could never be otherwise than piously grateful in a fine day, that drove him to the sun-dial. Here a thought struck him which led to long and deep reflection, in which the Bible became of the greatest conse- quence. The dial, and its awful yet interesting accom- paniments of all the wonders of the Heavens, brought him, not indeed for the first time, nor as if it was new, but peculiarly and cogently in his then frame of mind, to the admission, or rather firm con- viction, that there must be a power, invisible, in- tangible, inaudible, unsearchable, yet Almighty, and always present, in us and about us; a power that, whether we were mere dust, and worms, or allied to angels, was able at least , if it pleased, to direct and govern us. Whatever became of free will, or the theories in Tremaine’s mind, in regard to u the order of things,” o 3 294 TREMAINE. — wi-viJ / /